Array ( [sid] => 182738 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Harbinger [time] => 2016-03-08 03:12:32 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Ten thousand pale white horses
like lightening
hooves the sound of thunder
battling to reach the frontlines.
Somewhere ravens hover in concentric circles
to feast on the nations.
Somewhere scorched earth is quenched by blood
and the ocean/'/s a burial ground overflowing from the mass.
And I’m on top of a mountain
somewhere above the blanket of smoke
looking down at the beast.
I think about running into your arms
Running so fast a bullet couldn’t stop me at drowning out the misery.
I think about running to your arms
Before the great cloud of witnesses
Before the sky is split clean down the middle
Before they gather in number like the sand
I think about running
and running and running
Until I reach your fingertips.
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 285 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Cathartic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Harbinger


Harbinger
Date: Tuesday, 8th March 2016 @ 03:12:32 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Cathartic
Ten thousand pale white horses
like lightening
hooves the sound of thunder
battling to reach the frontlines.
Somewhere ravens hover in concentric circles
to feast on the nations.
Somewhere scorched earth is quenched by blood
and the ocean/'/s a burial ground overflowing from the mass.
And I’m on top of a mountain
somewhere above the blanket of smoke
looking down at the beast.
I think about running into your arms
Running so fast a bullet couldn’t stop me at drowning out the misery.
I think about running to your arms
Before the great cloud of witnesses
Before the sky is split clean down the middle
Before they gather in number like the sand
I think about running
and running and running
Until I reach your fingertips.


This poem is Copyright © Cathartic


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